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2LP
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BT 135LP
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$54.00
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 11/7/2025
Among the true Keiji Haino devotees, Nijiumu's Era of Sad Wings (released on P.S.F. in 1993) has always held a special place in the pantheon. Operating for only a few years in the early '90s and apparently only performing a handful of shows, Nijiumu operated at the opposite end of the dynamic spectrum to Haino's famed power trio Fushitsusha, dwelling in a hushed, meditative realm of mysterious droning sonorities and free-floating melodies that occasionally erupts into violence. Black Truffle now presents a new double-LP edition of a lesser-known 1994 Nijiumu recording, When I sing, I slip into the microphone. Into that void, I bring comrade "prayers", then, turning to face the outside, together we explode. Here, Nijiumu is the trio of Haino, Tetuzi Akiyama, and the obscure Takashi Matsuoka, the three performing on a wide variety of string, wind and percussion instruments, as well as electric guitar and bass, and Haino's unmistakable voice. Like on the early solo Haino album that shares the group's name, the instrumentation swims in reverb, often obscuring the instrumental sources. On the short opening piece, a distant reed instrument arcs long buzzing melodies over a bed of cymbals and gongs, like a psychedelic take on Tibetan music. The epic second part, occupying almost 50 minutes, begins as a splayed, near-formless cloud of electric guitar and bass, shadowed by bowed and plucked strings, the three elements working through twisting atonal shapes. At various points in the recording, we hear what seems to be the sounds of musicians moving between instruments, their shuffling and bumps fitting seamlessly into this radically open music. Eventually, what sounds like electric guitar moves closer to the foreground, fixing on a repeated melodic cell around which hover mysterious clouds of long tones and a sporadic shaker. In this new edition, the Nijiumu trio recording is supplemented by a piece recorded solo by Haino in 1973, a bracing electronic blowout stretching almost half an hour. Using a homemade electronics setup to unleash a barrage of crunching distortion and shuddering harmonic fuzz, it takes its place in the canon of extreme live electronics next to Robert Ashley's Wolfman and Walter Marchetti's Osmanthus fragrans, looking forward to extreme noise years before Merzbow. Taken as a whole, these four sides of music are a stunning document of some of the lesser-known waystations of Haino's singular creative path.
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